


Is It Or Isn't It? - An Ineffable Valentine

by IneffableToreshi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Sex, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Dining at the Ritz (Good Omens), Elevator Sex, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Nervous Crowley (Good Omens), Romantic Fluff, Romantic Gestures, Sex, Shameless Smut, Smut, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff, Valentine's Day smut, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:48:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22601239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableToreshi/pseuds/IneffableToreshi
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley have been spending most of their time together since the world didn't end, but when Aziraphale nonchalantly invites the demon to dine at the Ritz on Valentine's Day, Crowley loses his mind trying to work out whether or not it's a proper "date".
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 224
Collections: Top Aziraphale Recs





	Is It Or Isn't It? - An Ineffable Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> Come on, you all knew there was no way I was going to NOT write something for our Ineffable Boys for Valentine's Day. XD  
> Just a little romantic/smutty piece because I can never resist the opportunity. <3
> 
> Please leave a comment to let me know what you think! And if you're interested in more of my writing, check out my blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com! <3

Anthony J. Crowley was a demon. 

He wasn’t a particularly  _ great  _ demon, as it were, but a demon none-the-less. He’d Fallen from Heaven and survived the torments of Hell. He was the orchestrator of the First Temptation, the great and terrible Serpent of Eden. He’d received numerous commendations from Hell throughout the millennia (occasionally even for things he’d actually  _ done _ ). He’d been trusted (poor decision, as it turned out) to deliver the Antichrist. He’d actively plotted to go against both Heaven and Hell in order to stop the Apocalypse. He’d gone up against two of his own, eliminating one and discorporating the other. He’d walked into a raging inferno and out again with the key to everyone’s salvation tucked under his arm. He’d driven a flaming car across the countryside into certain doom to stand face-to-face with Satan himself. Finally, he’d walked right into Heaven (okay, technically he was dragged there) on purpose and spat hellfire at a group of Archangels. 

And now-

Now, sitting in his Bentley, across the road from an angel’s bookshop, gripping the steering wheel for all it was worth, he found that he was absolutely, positively,  _ ineffably _ terrified.

The date was February 14th, approximately six months after the world hadn’t ended, and Crowley and Aziraphale had a date at the Ritz. 

But, well, that was the question though, wasn’t it? 

_ Was  _ it a date?

Since the world had very pleasantly failed to end and a certain angel and demon had managed to escape their respective fates by wearing each other’s corporations, the two had been spending  _ quite  _ a lot of time together. With Heaven and Hell well and truly off their cases and all the time in the world to do whatever they pleased with  _ whomever  _ they pleased, Crowley had been both astounded and deeply grateful to find that what Aziraphale seemed to want to do was anything that the two of them could do together.

So they dined and they drank. They took walks in the park and drives through the countryside. Crowley popped into the bookshop to be a general nuisance to the customers (much to Aziraphale’s delight), and Aziraphale popped around the flat to praise Crowley’s plants (which, once he’d seen how beautifully they were growing, he couldn’t help but be delighted by). 

They saw each other nearly every day, didn’t have a care in the world about who saw them together, and had even taken to holding hands while out and about together (a development which, frankly, had put Crowley on Cloud Nine for a good month following the first occurrence initiated by the angel). 

So when, while sharing a few drinks the night before, Aziraphale had casually suggested that they might go out for dinner at the Ritz today, well...it could have very easily been just another dinner. One of the many, many dinners they’d had in recent months. It was a normal, totally regular, everyday kind of occurrence between the two...friends? 

Crowley squeezed the Bentley’s steering wheel with long, lithe fingers, and swallowed hard while staring at the bookshop from across the road. 

But...Aziraphale had to know, right? The angel wasn’t the  _ most  _ observant being in the universe, and barely ever indulging in sleep meant that he hardly knew what day of the week it was at any given time, but if there was one thing he knew, it was love. He  _ felt  _ it, for Someone’s sake. Even if he’d lost track of his calendar, it was a sure thing that the angel could feel the waves of love cresting all throughout the city as young couples flittered to and fro, planning special days and buying sweet gifts for their significant others. 

No, there was just...there was absolutely no way that Aziraphale  _ didn’t know  _ that he’d invited Crowley to dinner on  _ Valentine’s Day.  _

That said, even if Crowley was absolutely positive of this fact, it didn’t mean that the demon necessarily had any idea what it  _ meant _ . It could easily be that the angel thought nothing of the greeting-card-and-chocolates holiday and thus hadn’t even considered anything unusual about dining with his best friend on this particular day. It could be that Aziraphale was one of those “let’s take back Valentine’s Day for all the poor, miserable single folk” people and planned to do so by going on a totally platonic date with his totally platonic friend. 

Or his angel could actually have every intention of spending the most romantic day of the year with Crowley because-

Crowley choked on his own deep intake of breath and slammed his head into the seat behind him. He couldn’t think like that. He  _ shouldn’t  _ think like that. 

Or  _ should  _ he? 

This was the problem; not necessarily what Aziraphale meant for the evening to be, but how Crowley should treat the situation. The demon had spent several decades now forcefully tamping down his feelings, his desires, desperate not to make any more wrong moves after the wrenching heartbreak of “you go too fast for me”. He did not, therefore, want to make assumptions that turned a pleasant evening into an opportunity for misery, especially not now that he and Aziraphale were free to spend as much time together as they wanted. 

But if Aziraphale  _ had  _ invited him to dinner on Valentine’s Day because he was hoping for… Well, obviously Crowley didn’t want to fuck  _ that  _ up either. 

No closer to coming up with a game plan, but knowing that he couldn’t sit here much longer without risking being late (not a great start to the evening, that), the demon took several deep breaths and fought to steady the erratic beating of his corporation’s heart. Then he snatched up the bouquet of flowers he’d left sitting in the driver’s seat as witness to his nervous breakdown, and threw himself bodily out of the vehicle. 

(He’d waffled on the idea of bringing flowers, just in case this was  _ not,  _ in fact, a date, but had decided it was a safe call either way since he’d successfully brought the angel flowers in the past without any overt romantic intention.)

He had himself more-or-less put together by the time he finger-snapped his way into the locked bookshop, but was thrown off guard by the distinct lack of an angel waiting in the shop proper. Aziraphale was usually ready to go, hanging out near the register (usually perusing a book, because of course he was) whenever he knew Crowley was coming to pick him up for one of their outings. Perhaps he’d gotten distracted by a new shipment out back?

“Angel?” the demon called, proud he’d managed to settle himself enough for the word to come out sounding casual. “You ready to go?”

There was only half a moment of silence before the angelic trill came back to him: “Almost, my dear! I’ll be right out!”

Crowley huffed a breath and gnawed his lip. Leave it to Aziraphale to make him wait on the day that being alone with his thoughts was causing him cranial disintegration. 

He spent his few minutes alone in the bookshop fussing with himself in a nervous snit. He’d spent half the day obsessing over his look, trying to work out what would be pleasing to the angel without making it look like he was  _ trying  _ to be pleasing to the angel, and he’d been second-guessing himself every moment since he’d stepped out of his flat. He’d settled for black dress trousers (skin-tight, of course), a blood-red dress shirt (with the top two buttons left casually open), and a new black leather jacket that he personally thought looked absolutely fantastic on him (but which, at this particular moment, felt like it was perhaps a bit too much). He’d also pulled his hair (which he’d been growing out since the failed Apocalypse) into a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck, and applied the perfect amount of a cologne that Aziraphale had previously complimented. 

He felt he was perfectly put together for either a date or a night out with a good friend. 

Yet somehow even that modicum of confidence wasn’t enough to keep him anticipating disaster around every corner. 

_ Deep breaths, Anthony _ , the demon told himself.  _ Don’t get yourself even more worked up. You’re fine. This is fine. It’s all going to be just f- _

“Oh, my, well, don’t you look handsome this evening?” 

Crowley’s head snapped to the source of the compliment (fighting a blush as he did so) with a nervous-annoyed rebuttal on his lips, but as he caught sight of the angel the words died out as a mono-syllabic kind of choking noise. 

The old-fashioned, set-in-his-ways angelic bookshop owner had been stubbornly wearing the same clothes and coat for nearly two full centuries now, and while Crowley took every opportunity to tease and torment him about his extraordinarily aged style, the demon was rather fond of the look on Aziraphale. It was warm and comforting, and expected. 

What the angel was wearing right now was...something else. 

Crowley hadn’t seen him in anything but creams and beiges for so long that the navy blue of the suit-pants and jacket almost made him do a double-take. The dark shade and the lighter blue button-up beneath the jacket made the angel’s white-blond hair and bright blue eyes pop like they were literally made of light. The fit of everything was perfect; much less over-layered and podgy than his usual outfit, tailored perfectly to show off his slightly-thicker-but-secretly-quite-powerful form. 

It took Crowley far longer than it should have to remember to close his mouth.

Aziraphale had entered the room standing tall and looking uncharacteristically confident, but at Crowley’s reaction he’d faltered a bit, his smile drooping just enough to be noticeable. “Yes, well,” he stammered, clearing his throat. “I thought it was rather time I tried something new, but if you don’t think-”

“S’good,” Crowley interrupted.  _ Too eager _ , his brain shrieked at him. “I mean, no, I-” He mentally slapped himself across the back of the head and forced what he hoped was a not-creepy smile on his face. “You look great, angel. It suits you, it really does.” 

“Oh!” Aziraphale’s smile returned full-force. It was the type of smile that Crowley aimed to receive from the angel as often as possible: genuine, warm, bright, and so unbelievably beautiful. It made the demon’s insides melt into a pathetic, useless jelly. 

“Oh! Are those for me?” the angel exclaimed, eyes alight.

Crowley almost stumbled for a moment before remembering the bouquet clutched dangerously close in his right hand. “Oh, uh, yes,” he said, brilliantly, before holding his arm out rod-straight. 

Aziraphale rushed forward to accept the bundle of red and pink camellias, immediately pressing them to his nose to breathe deep of their scent. His sigh was nothing short of satisfaction; a sound that, when coming from Aziraphale, made Crowley’s entire body light up with want. 

“Oh they’re  _ lovely _ , Crowley!” the angel fussed, holding the bouquet close to his chest. “Did you grow them yourself?”

Part of him wanted to deny it. It might not hurt to have plausible deniability should Aziraphale think to look up the meaning of these particular flowers. The rest of him was too eager to eek out another one of those smiles. “Sure did,” he admitted, going for casual and coming up just short. 

He was rewarded with another smile none-the-less. “They’re so wonderfully vibrant, my dear,” Aziraphale praised. “And I don’t feel any fear coming off them at all.” The angel gave Crowley a knowing smile and a raised eyebrow, which the demon steadfastly ignored while vowing to never confirm the suspicions Aziraphale was currently implying. 

Instead, he cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, and waved a hand toward the door. “Your chariot awaits, angel,” he said (and immediately cringed in his head at how lame he sounded.)

Aziraphale’s face, however, only seemed to light up even more. “Oh, of course! We should get going.” With a thought he miracled up a lovely crystal vase, fussed over the camellias for just a moment longer while settling them in a nice, sunny window, and hurried to join Crowley at the door. “After you, my dear.”

The short drive to the Ritz was spent in amicable silence, Aziraphale humming pleasantly to himself whilst watching the city fly by, Crowley putting more concentration into not snapping the steering wheel in an anxious fit than he was putting into actually driving. 

(Luckily the Bentley knew the way and was happy enough to get them there safely because it had become rather fond of Aziraphale over the years.)

Crowley’s mind was whirling, trying to work out the meaning behind the newest pieces of information that had been provided at the bookshop. 

The biggest thing, of course, was that Aziraphale had  _ changed his clothes _ . What would have been an expected, daily occurrence for most people was an absolutely astounding shock when it concerned the angel. The question, of course, was whether he’d truly, honestly just felt like a change for the first time in over a hundred-and-eighty years, or whether he’d made the effort out of a desire to look good for Crowley. 

Not that it took any effort at all for Crowley to think Aziraphale was the most beautiful creature in the Universe, but that was neither here nor there at the moment. 

Crowley’s sense of self-preservation wanted to insist that, surely the angel had just happened across a lovely suit at the tailor’s up the street from his shop and had decided that surviving the end of the world was reason enough to try something new. It obviously had nothing at all to do with concerning himself over Crowley’s impressions of his physical appearance. 

And yet...the flicker of disappointment in the angel’s eyes when Crowley hadn’t reacted the way he’d expected...followed by the radiant smile when the demon had finally got his foot out of his mouth and expressed his appreciation for the new look…

GAH! Crowley had no idea what to think, one way or the other. 

Then, on top of that, was the fact that before Crowley had been thoroughly distracted by how painfully, sinfully  _ good  _ Aziraphale looked in his new outfit, the angel had commented on his own appearance. ‘Handsome’, he’d said, and oh, remembering it now made shivers of nervous pleasure go up and down Crowley’s spine. It had obviously just been a case of the angel being polite, of course, but...what if it had been a little more...sincere? What if Aziraphale was genuinely pleased with how the demon had put himself together for this evening? What if he was sitting there in the passenger seat right now, thinking about how  _ handsome  _ Crowley was for their  _ Valentine’s Day date _ ?

Just imagining it had the demon’s chest as tight as a drastically over-tightened drum. 

Somehow, despite his internal nervous breakdown, Crowley managed to spring out of the Bentley the second they’d parked in order to hurry to the passenger side and pull the door open for Aziraphale. The angel responded with a soft, “Thank you, dear,” and another of those sinfully gorgeous smiles, and the demon did his very best to keep himself from discorporating as they strode together into the hotel. 

The hostess who greeted them did so with an all-too-knowing smile and lead them into the restaurant, past the table that had practically become their personal one, given how often they’d sat there. That table, it transpired, was already occupied by a lovely-looking young couple who were gazing besottedly at one another over their decadent desserts. Crowley frowned a little at this; it was tradition, after all, for whomever reserved (aka ‘miracled’) a table to reserve  _ that  _ table, and it seemed odd that Aziraphale would fail to-

_ Oh.  _ Crowley’s brain stuttered. 

The hostess was grinning at them from beside a very lovely, very private little corner table lit with a centrepiece of blood-red candles. It was well away from any of the other tables, the nearby lighting turned down low to accentuate the candlelight, and there were rose petals scattered across the white tablecloth. 

Had there been rose petals on the other tables they’d walked past? Crowley was too terrified to look back.

“Here we are, Sirs,” the hostess said with a wave, and placed a set of menus in front of the table’s two seats. “Someone will be over for your drink order shortly.”

Crowley was certain that Aziraphale smiled and thanked the lovely lady before she walked away, but he didn’t compute any of it because his brain was too busy trying to work out this new development.

Had Aziraphale done this on purpose? Surely not, right? No, this...this was just a mistake. The waitstaff had accidentally given away their table and thus had to move them to this one that just so happened to have been set up to be the most painfully romantic spot in the entire restaurant…

“It will be difficult to enjoy your meal if you insist on standing, my dear.” 

Crowley startled, eyes popping wide. At some point Aziraphale had taken his seat and was looking at him over folded hands, a small smirk on his face and a glint in his eyes. The demon made a strange, garbled, embarrassed kind of sound and practically threw himself into his own seat before quickly hiding behind his menu while the angel chuckled softly beside him.

The following hour-and-a-half passed in a blur for Crowley. He vaguely recalled ordering food, but couldn’t have said what it was if his immortal life had depended on it. He was certain there had been some semblance of conversation, and he knew that Aziraphale had hardly stopped smiling the entire time, but what they’d talked about was gone from his mind nearly as soon as it was gone from his lips. His most vivid recollection was of a particularly sinful sound the angel had made while finishing the last bite of his Cornish turbot, and the subsequent enormous gulps of wine the demon had taken to distract himself from the things that sound had done to him. 

It was when dessert arrived that the demon’s racing mind (and even-more exuberantly-vibrating heart) became too much to deal with any longer.

Their waiter had presented them with a single plate that Crowley couldn’t recall either of them ordering, on which sat two positively sinful-looking slices of cake - one angel food, one devil’s food - displayed together and drizzled all over with a thick red strawberry sauce. Crowley stared at the dessert, his corporation having decided that breathing was no longer a necessity worth concerning itself over. There was just...there was just no bloody way that  _ that  _ arrangement was a coincidence.

“Crowley dear? Are you quite alright?”

The fact that he was able to lift his gaze to meet Aziraphale’s was something of a miracle in and of itself. 

The angel was gazing back at him with concerned eyes, and it made him wonder (somewhere in the back of his mind, in a place that wasn’t currently experiencing a five-alarm panic attack) what his face looked like at the moment. 

He expected he had the copious amounts of wine to thank for what happened next.

“Angel, are we on a date?” The words came out of him without even a hint of conscious decision-making, quickly followed by, “Is this a Valentine’s Day date?”

A few things happened very quickly after that. 

The first was that Aziraphale’s eyes widened and his face flushed a rather deep shade of pink, followed by a few stumbling, stuttering sounds that weren’t quite words. 

The second was that Crowley pushed to his feet in a panic, nearly going right back down as the weight of the alcohol in his system hit him, while stammering a litany of, “I’m sorry” and “I didn’t mean-” and “Fuck, I should go-”

The third was that, as Crowley turned and rushed to flee the scene of his mortification, a warm hand wrapped around his wrist and held him in a vice-like grip.

“Crowley, wait, please,” the angel’s voice begged. “Please, don’t go. You- You just surprised me, that’s all! I rather… That is to say… I suppose that I just...assumed you knew.”

At that Crowley turned back around, eyebrows raised in genuine shock, a kind of scoff of a noise in his throat. “You assumed,” came out first, dry and disbelieving. Following it was small, desperate, “Wait, so...it  _ is  _ a Valentine’s Day date?”

Gently, but with a sturdy hand, Aziraphale pulled Crowley back down into his seat and scooted his own closer so that they were sitting nearly knee-to-knee. The angel didn’t let go of the demon’s hand for even a moment, choosing instead to bring his free hand up to encase long, lithe fingers in soft warmth. 

“I must apologize, my dear,” came the quiet, concerned tone. “Clearly I should have made my intentions for this evening more...obvious. It’s just that, well…” Aziraphale glanced down at where their hands were joined and worried at his lower lip for a moment. “It’s just that I’ve made you wait so terribly long that I wasn’t certain you still- A-and I thought, perhaps, a romantic evening to suss out whether your feelings were still-” He trailed off and looked up at Crowley from under his eyelashes, expectant and, perhaps, a little desperate.

Crowley gaped. He floundered uselessly for several long moments before somehow, without his active input, words managed to find their way to his lips. “My...my feelings have never changed,” he barely whispered. “I’ve just been...trying not to go too fast…”

A look of agony flared across Aziraphale’s face. He visibly flinched, but also squeezed Crowley’s hand all the more tightly. “I- I truly hurt you back then...didn’t I?” 

Crowley saw the pain in the angel’s eyes and he wanted to backtrack, to assure him that it hadn’t really been that bad, that there was nothing to feel so bad about. No matter how he struggled, however, he couldn’t bring himself to actually say the words, because it  _ had  _ been bad. It had been one of the most painful experiences of his wretched existence. Afterwards he’d gotten blind, ossified drunk and had never actually successfully recovered the memories of the following three months. 

Aziraphale took Crowley’s silence for confirmation. His gaze dropped to his hands wrapped around the demon’s and he took a deep, steadying breath. “I fear I’ve gone about so many things the wrong way, my dear,” he spoke, soft and slow and deliberate. “I need to tell you… Back then, in the Bentley...it was the most difficult, most painful thing I’ve ever done, saying those words and walking away from you. Perhaps I could have said it differently, perhaps I could have given you some better indication- But I was so scared for your safety, and-” His voice cracked. He leaned his head down, brought Crowley’s hand up so that the back of the demon’s fingers pressed against his warm forehead. 

“I need you to know, when I said ‘you go too fast for me’, it wasn’t...it wasn’t a rejection, or an admonishment. It wasn’t me trying to push you away or rebuke your feelings. It was…” He lowered their hands then and forced himself to look up, to meet Crowley’s gaze, though it was hidden from him by those blasted glasses. “I was trying to tell you, in my own foolish way, that it couldn’t be  _ yet _ . I was trying to say that we needed to be patient, because I couldn’t risk the retribution that would come upon you should either of our sides found out about us. I was trying to tell you- Oh my dearest, I was trying to tell you that you’re the most important thing in the world to me and I couldn’t lose you.”

Crowley had gone very still. Unable to breath, unable to think, his heart caught in mid-beat and hovering there, awaiting further instruction. His hand felt as hot as hellfire where Aziraphale held it and his eyes were burning behind his glasses. 

“So, what you’re saying is that this  _ is  _ a Valentine’s Day date.” 

Aziraphale burst into laughter, though there were also tears streaming down his face. One of his hands found Crowley’s cheek, his thumb stroking the flushed skin there. “Yes, my darling, this is a date. A proper date.” He smiled through the tears that seemed now unwilling to stop and squeezed the demon’s hand again. “I was hoping, perhaps, a romantic gesture to show that I’m finally ready to move forward, because I wasn’t  _ sure _ , you see… I didn’t know if you still-”

“I still,” Crowley interrupted, practically tripping over the words to get them out. “I absolutely still. Never stopped. Never will.” He felt breathless (reasonably so, as he hadn’t actually taken a breath in several long minutes) and dangerously light in the head. “Angel, I-” He hesitated, heart in his throat, having held the words deep down inside for _so long_. “I love you. So, _so_ _much_.” 

It felt like skydiving without a parachute, saying the words aloud. A plunge he could never take back. 

But he didn’t want to, because Aziraphale’s watery eyes glowed with happiness and adoration. “Oh Crowley,” the angel sighed. “I love you too, my dearest. More than I could ever express.” 

He had no chute, but his angel had appeared behind him, arms wrapped protectively around his body, wings spread, lowering them both safely to the ground together. 

It was like surviving the Apocalypse all over again, only somehow infinitely better. 

“Angel,” Crowley croaked as he reached up and snatched the barrier of his glasses away from his face. “Can I- Can I kiss you?”

Aziraphale responded by surging forward of his own volition, his hand on the demon’s cheek angling him just right. Their lips pressed together in a soft, slow,  _ powerful  _ kiss that sparked and burned and tingled in all the most amazing ways. 

It didn’t last long, but by the time they pulled apart Crowley’s fingers were fisted in the lapels of Aziraphale’s coat and he was gasping for breath. He felt a bit embarrassed about it, to be honest, until he noticed that the angel was doing the same. 

“I’ve been waiting so long to do that,” Aziraphale confessed with a smirk. 

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response, angel,” Crowley responded with a snort. 

Then they were giggling like fools, clinging to one another and pressing their heads together, giddy with the joyousness of it all. Crowley, for his part, felt like he’d never known true happiness until this moment. 

“I love you, Aziraphale,” he breathed, low and chocolatey, revelling in being allowed to say the words. “I love you more than anything. Loved you so long. I’ll love you until we all turn to dust, and even then the dust that’s me will keep on loving the dust that’s you.”

Aziraphale didn’t seem to know whether to chuckle or swoon, so he did both and pulled the demon in for a second kiss, then a third and a fourth; a series of quick, desperate kisses, just needing for their lips to be touching. 

“Darling,” he whispered against Crowley’s skin. “I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I feel like now might be a good time to mention that I may have...made preparations...in case tonight went as I was hoping it would.”

Crowley blinked. There was a tiny hint of a thought in the back of his mind, but the rest of him pushed that thought away because he didn’t want to get his hopes up until he knew for sure…

“W-what kind of ‘preparations’, angel?”

Aziraphale bit his lower lip (and fuck if that didn’t go straight to Crowley’s groin) and surreptitiously pulled a plastic card from his coat pocket. It was a perfectly innocent white rectangle with the words “The Ritz Hotel” written on one side, and the sight of it very nearly set the demon to hyperventilating. 

“Would you...care to come up to my room, my love?” Aziraphale hummed. “I know we could have just gone back to the shop or your flat, but I thought perhaps it might be more romantic if-” 

The angel was cut off with a giddy cry as the demon yanked them both to their feet and began stalking at high-speed across the restaurant. “Fuck, angel,” Crowley gasped as they practically ran for the exit. “Can’t ask me things like that in public. Gonna give the whole restaurant a show if we don’t get behind closed doors soon.”

Aziraphale giggled at that and, snapping the fingers of the hand Crowley wasn’t pulling, ensured that the bill was paid with an extravagant tip added on. 

They made it as far as the elevator. In the heartbeat between the doors closing and the lift moving, Crowley had pressed Aziraphale against the wall and claimed his mouth in a passionate kiss full of millennia of desire. The angel responded immediately, tongue tasting the demon’s lower lip and drawing a shaky moan. 

They weren’t sure which one of them did it, but they both felt the elevator shudder to a sudden stop and knew that it wasn’t going anywhere, nor was the door opening, until they said it was okay. 

Fingers fumbled at buttons, wove into hair, dragged along the skin of hips and waists. The temperature in the elevator seemed to rise by a hundred degrees, and Crowley in particular was quite certain that all the oxygen had gone out of the small space. 

“Fuck-” the demon growled, pressing a hard kiss to the angel’s throat while squeezing soft hips between his long fingers. “Angel-! Shit- Never thought-” He hissed and squeezed harder when Aziraphale’s hand found its way down the front of his trousers. “ _ Fuck _ ! I-I feel like a bloody teenager, angel. Feel like my whole body is gonna explode before we can even do anything.”

Aziraphale’s white-blond curls were a wreck and his eyes were lidded and dark. “I assure you I feel the same, my love. Don’t worry, I intend to use every second of the room rental to ring every ounce of pleasure out of you that I can manage.”

Crowley made a high-pitched noise at the angel’s claim and shoved his hands down the back of those lovely new navy trousers to claim a couple of handfuls of that gorgeous arse he’d been admiring for millennia. 

In the next moment they were rutting against each other, classless, careless, nothing more than a mess of two bodies, panting and sweating and making obscene little noises. Crowley felt like he was burning, burning, unable to hold back the waves of desperate desire that had been building up inside him for so long until finally-

It was unceremonious, sudden, and messy, but it took the edge off in a way that was absolutely necessary for him to be able to pull himself back together, and when he heard the way Aziraphale groaned and saw the way the angel’s eyes rolled back in his head for a moment he knew that the other had needed it just as badly. 

They clung hard to one another for several long moments, gasping for air they didn’t need, soaked in sweat they hadn’t meant to produce, gazing into one another’s eyes with pure adoration and need. 

When the elevator doors opened a few moments later, two perfectly clean and tidy men stepped out, fingers entwined. The young lady who’d been waiting for the lift should have been none-the-wiser to their indiscretion, but twitched a smile at their flushed faces and somewhat dishevelled hair as they strode off down the hall together. 

Aziraphale tugged his demon’s hand impatiently toward their corner suite and had Crowley pressed against the door the moment it was closed behind them. The angel swallowed a deep moan from the demon’s mouth as he pressed their bodies back together, eager for round two. 

“Mmm, my love, you taste so delicious,” the angel purred against the demon’s jaw. 

Crowley felt like he was going to fall apart right here in the doorway. He made a high-pitched whimpering noise and bit his lip hard to cut it off before it could alert the neighbours to their intentions. 

Aziraphale seemed to understand at once what the demon was doing, because he reached up to run soft fingers along the bitten lip and look up at his lover with lustful eyes. “No, my darling, don’t hold yourself back. I want to hear every single sound you make, love.” He lifted a hand in front of Crowley’s face and snapped his fingers with a sinful grin. “I assure you, the room is thoroughly soundproof.”

The incredibly frivolous use of a miracle for salacious means made a low, rumbling rise up in the demon’s throat. “Fuck that’s hot,” he growled. “When did you become such a naughty angel?”

The pride on Aziraphale’s face at the question was quite evident. He smirked in a delightfully sinful way as he pulled the demon backward into the room. “I like to think the first spark of it was struck the moment a wily serpent slithered up the Garden wall to tempt me with his beauty.” 

Crowley’s cheeks burned a hot red. “Did you-? I mean-” He stumbled over his thoughts, the question refusing to come out in a coherent manner. “Since the Garden-?” His voice shook a little when he asked it.

Aziraphale clutched at the demon’s hands, pulling him close. He led them to the bed, where he sat down and encouraged Crowley to join him. When they were side-by-side and turned to face one another the angel gently tugged the elastic from the demon’s hair so that he could run his fingers through the fiery strands. “I can’t truthfully say that I understood anything I felt back then,” Aziraphale admitted, a bit sadly. “There was too much of Heaven in my thoughts, my actions… But I do remember that my first, nerve-wracking thought upon setting eyes on you for the first time was how painfully beautiful you were.” 

Crowley’s cheeks burned hotter, the flush working its way down his neck and beneath his like-colored shirt. He let himself lean into the angel’s touch, a little groan on his lips as strong fingers rubbed at his scalp. 

“You were different,” Aziraphale continued, “and in a way that frightened me. But you were also kind to me, reassuring me - your enemy - for no reason other than to make me feel better. And though I wouldn’t recognize it for what it was for many, many long years, I do truly believe that the tightness I felt in my chest that day was the first spark of love.”

The angel’s words had Crowley fighting back tears, and that just wouldn’t do, so he steadied himself by countering with his own confession. “I knew that day,” he told his angel. “I’d been admiring you from afar. You seemed different somehow from the other three Guardians, and I knew I was right when you told me you’d given away your sword. Imagine...an angel defying God simply because he believed it was the right thing to do!”

Aziraphale sputtered a bit, a hint of pink rising to the balls of his cheeks. “ _ Defy  _ is such a strong word,” he muttered under his breath, but that just made Crowley chuckle.

“I knew you were different. You truly cared about the welfare of the humans, and that was amazing to me.” Crowley’s face melted into the kind of fond smile that he’d never allowed any other being besides Aziraphale to see. “Then the rain began to fall. I tried so hard to hide it, but I was terrified. I thought for sure that this was God come to smite me herself. I was certain the water falling from the sky would send me to oblivion, my punishment for tempting Her new children. I remember closing my eyes and hoping that it wouldn’t hurt too much, that it would be quick. But nothing touched me, and when I opened my eyes again your wing was above me, sheltering me.” 

While the demon spoke, Aziraphale’s free hand had found long fingers and woven them together with his own. “I told you it was okay,” he whispered with a smile, remembering. “It was only normal, perfectly safe water.”

Crowley nodded and leaned closer so that he could press a soft kiss to the angel’s temple. “But even so, you continued to shield me,” he said, “because you saw that the rain had scared me. It was the kindest thing anyone had ever done for me, even in the Before times. And just like that, I was head over heels. Have been ever since.”

Aziraphale’s cheeks were pink, his blue eyes practically glowing with love. “I’m so sorry I pushed you away for so long, my dearest,” he whispered, stroking Crowley’s thumb with his own. “I know that sometimes...sometimes I was cruel. But everything I said or did was my own misguided attempts to keep you safe. On this I swear.”

Crowley leaned forward, nuzzled his head against white-blond curls, laid gentle kisses along soft porcelain skin. “I know,” he assured his angel. “Even if I hated it at the time, I know now, and I’m just glad…” He paused, swallowed hard, and let his eyes fall closed while he breathed deep of Aziraphale’s scent. “I’m just so glad that we’re finally here now. Together.”

Aziraphale’s lips on his own felt like passion made tangible. They fell to the bed together in a tangle of limbs, smiling against one another’s mouths, hands running through each other’s hair. They’d taken the edge off in the elevator, but the desire was growing anew, building, spreading. Crowley thought it might devour him whole, and he was prepared to go happily if that was his fate. 

With some difficulty, the demon pulled just far enough away to be able to look into his angel’s eyes. “What do you want, angel?” he murmured against the others lips. “Tell me. I’ll give you anything. Everything. Just name it.”

Aziraphale’s fingers wove into the demon’s long hair and pulled at it, just a little, to elicit a lovely little moan. “You would, wouldn’t you?” he countered without any semblance of doubt in his voice. “You would. You have. You’ve been spoiling me rotten for millennia.”

“Mmm…” Crowley hummed, nuzzling his nose against Aziraphale’s. “Makes me happy to make you happy.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Aziraphale’s smile was simultaneously sweet and cocky, no mean feat to accomplish. “But had it ever occurred to you that it’s the other way around as well?”

Crowley’s brow furrowed for just a moment, before his angel’s hand found the front of his trousers and  _ squeezed _ . The demon groaned then, unable (and unwilling) to bite back the sound as Aziraphale leaned up and whispered into his ear, “Let me take care of you for a change, darling.”

The next thing the demon knew, all contact was gone and his body was jerking toward the loss of it, a whimper on his lips. The angel, who had simply stood to face him from the edge of the bed, chuckled a little as he removed his navy blue suit jacket and tossed it to a nearby chair. “Do not fret, my love,” he told the other. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind removing that lovely leather jacket for me? Oh, but leave the rest. I’d like to enjoy unwrapping you myself.”

Crowley heard the noise that came out of his mouth, but vowed to deny it for the remainder of eternity and beyond. He did, however, rip his jacket off and hurl it across the room so fast that he wasn’t entirely certain he hadn’t subconsciously used a miracle to do so. 

Aziraphale chuckled again. Slowly, taking stock of the way his demon’s breaths hitched as he did so, the angel unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled them up to the elbows. Then he popped the buttons on the front of the shirt and let it flutter open around his body just to see the way Crowley’s eyes glazed over with desire. 

“Whatchya gonna do, angel?” the demon asked, swallowing hard and licking his lips in equal measure. He seemed nervous, but also practically vibrating with the need to get on with it. 

“I believe I already mentioned back in the elevator, dearest,” the angel said with a smirk. Then he crawled up over Crowley’s body and began the process of divesting the demon of his trousers. “I’m going to wring every ounce of pleasure out of you that I can manage…”

Crowley keened high in his throat and squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment. Aziraphale continued to smirk, using a minor miracle to help pull the skin-tight trousers from the demon’s body, snatching away his socks as well as he went. Without a moment’s hesitation, he climbed into Crowley’s lap and manhandled him up in order to wrestle the shirt up over his head and tossed it away as well. 

When the demon was in naught but his pants, the angel purred, running warm, soft hands up and down the thin, lithe body beneath him. “You’ve always been so beautiful, my love,” the angel sighed. “Is it hardly any wonder that I’ve wanted you so much for so long?”

Crowley groaned and involuntarily bucked his hips. “Gonna kill me, angel,” he complained. “Can’t handle it. You’re so fucking hot.”

Aziraphale hummed, trailing feather-light fingers down the center of the demon’s chest, all the way to the band of his pants. “I don’t know,” he said, teasing. “I think you could take an awful lot. In fact-” He leaned forward, close to Crowley’s face, eyes full of lust and mischief. “-do you think you could take _me?_ _All_ of me, that is?”

He rutted his hips against Crowley’s stomach to let the demon feel the extent of his arousal, and Crowley’s throat went dry at the inference. The moment he recovered he began nodding enthusiastically, wetting his lips with his tongue and staring up at his angel with enormous, blown out amber eyes. His own arousal was making itself extremely evident, almost painfully so. 

“Yes, I think you will,” Aziraphale rumbled low in his throat. “I think you’ll take me  _ perfectly _ .”

Without further warning, the angel dove forward, sucking hard kisses along his demon’s chest and throat, his collar and nipples, tongue darting out to lick at sensitive spots and teeth baring down to make  _ new  _ sensitive spots. Crowley gasped and writhed against the onslaught, so sudden and unexpected, and felt his body welling up with an unrestrainable heat. 

“Go- Fuck!  _ Shit,  _ angel!” 

Aziraphale hummed, a pleased sound. “Yes, darling,” he agreed as he scattered little bites and kisses all the way down Crowley’s torso. “Let me hear you. Let me hear what makes you wail…”

A long, low groan came out of the demon just hearing such words from his prim and proper angel’s mouth. “ _ Fuck _ , Aziraphale, y-you’re gonna discorporate me talkin’ like that.”

Aziraphale smirked against the taught skin just above Crowley’s pants and leered up at the demon with hunger in his eyes. “Oh no, love, I don’t plan on letting you go that easily.” Warm fingers slipped under the demon’s pants, and a moment later they were gone. 

Crowley’s heart stuttered in his chest as his erection was freed to stand, hard and throbbing, meer inches away from the positively glowing face of an angel who seemed enraptured with his finding. Crowley couldn’t decide if he wanted to dissolve into the bed under the angel’s scrutiny, or beg without an ounce of dignity for Aziraphale to  _ do something for the love of- _

Then, suddenly, Aziraphale’s tongue was running the length of his cock from root to tip and Crowley punctured the bed’s comforter with clawed fingers to keep from coming right then and there. 

“Oh, darling, you taste absolutely delicious,” the angel purred. 

Crowley squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered. “ _ Please,  _ angel-” he whined. “I can’t- Fuck. I’ve wanted you for so long-”

He was cut off by the touch of Aziraphale’s lips to his own. 

“Sorry dearest, I couldn’t resist a little taste,” the angel chuckled. “But I’ll restrain that particular aspect of my appetite for now.” 

Crowley shuddered beneath his angel and surged up to capture another kiss, only to find himself making weak little noises of anticipation against Aziraphale’s jaw as miraculously slick fingers found their way to his arse. 

“Let’s see how good you can be for me, my beautiful demon,” Aziraphale hummed while Crowley groaned. “And you know that if you’re good for me, I’ll be good for you.”

A thick finger pressed carefully past the tight muscle, drawing a gasp and a whine from the demon. Aziraphale pressed soft, tender kisses along his cheek, jaw, throat, all while whispering little endearments and encouragements. The finger moved slowly, in and out, letting Crowley warm to the sensations, until eventually the demon’s hands found their way into Aziraphale’s hair, tugging a little, needily. 

“More,” he begged. “Please.”

The angel licked a long stripe up the demon’s throat to the lobe of his ear and made a pleased sound. “Well, since you asked so nicely…”

A second finger joined the first. Crowley’s hips writhed against the doubled sensation, heels digging into the mattress. “ _ More _ ,” he moaned after only a few moments. Then, wanting to be good for his angel, he added another, “ _ Please. _ ”

Aziraphale was at his collarbone now, sucking rough little possessive bruises into the skin there, but he looked up with lust-heavy eyes at his demon’s request. “Are you sure my love?” He began to scissor the two fingers carefully, stretching his dear one slowly, tenderly. 

Blown eyes, fully amber and nearly devoured by pupil, met the angel’s gaze with a look of desperation. “ _ Please _ ,” Crowley repeated. “Can’t wait. Need  _ you _ . Need you  _ now _ .”

Aziraphale bit his lip and seemed to consider, but the temptation was far too great. He removed his hand from between Crowley’s legs, and a moment later he had his fly open, his cock free, and one of his demon’s legs thrown over his shoulder. 

Crowley looked down at the sight and could hardly stand the intensity of it. There was something outrageously erotic about his angel coming at him still clothed, while he himself lay completely nude and vulnerable. He wanted desperately to see Aziraphale without a stitch on, to lavish every inch of his angel’s body with the attention it deserved, but right now, this time, the power dynamic discrepancy was doing a hell of a lot for him that he wouldn’t have given up for the world. 

“Are you ready, my love?” Aziraphale had himself lined up, but he’d hesitated, lip between his teeth, face clouded with want. 

Crowley responded by thrusting his hips toward the angel. “Yessss, yes,  _ please _ !” he cried. “Please, Aziraphale!”

The first press knocked all the air out of the demon’s lungs. The next pulled a desperate keen from his throat, a wanton moan from his angel. Aziraphale moved almost painfully slow, taking the utmost care and savoring every sensation, so that by the time he was pressed as deep as he could go Crowley felt it was a very real possibility that he might cry. 

“Oh dear lord,” the angel gasped. His fingers were digging into Crowley’s hips, his grip so tight the demon knew there would be wonderful, glorious bruises left behind. “ _ Crowley _ , my- oh  _ fuck  _ you feel so good.”

Crowley snickered a little and very nearly made a saucy remark about profanity, but that was when his angel chose to move and all conscious thought left him in a tidal wave of sensations. 

It began as long, languid pulls out, slow, deliberate presses in, and oh, that was wonderful. But soon enough, taking Crowley’s moans as encouragement, Aziraphale began to move faster, harder. They began to move together, meeting each other’s thrusts, and after some experimentation the angel was able to find-

“ _ FUCK! _ ” Crowley cried out, the sound practically a scream. His back arched, driving his head back so that his throat was deliciously bared. The leg that was draped over Aziraphale’s shoulder squeezed, pulling the angel closer. “ _ Fuck, fuck, fuck!  _ Angel, please! Again! Please, again!”

So Aziraphale concentrated on hitting that same spot over and over with each thrust, and he watched his lovely demon fall apart beneath him. Crowley squirmed and writhed and  _ screamed _ , not a care in the world now for whether the room had been soundproofed or not. He would have shrieked this pleasure to the entirety of London if given the opportunity. 

“Crowley- Love- Dearest-” Aziraphale gasped as he moved. “You feel- uhn- so marvellous- Don’t know how much longer-”

Crowley reached forward, fingers scrabbling at his angel’s arms, his chest, snatching at the fabric of his shirt. He could barely work out the words through the blissful sounds being ripped from his body. “Angel! Gonna-  _ fuck!  _ I’m gonna-”

It was like all the heat in the demon’s body was being gathered to one point, straining, pulsing, trying to rip him apart with the pressure. He felt it would destroy him, tear him apart and leave nothing left to prove that he ever existed in the first place. 

He came untouched, with a cry that would have prompted the other hotel patrons to call the police, had they been able to hear. Waves of unrestrained pleasure pulsed through him, consuming him, causing his body to contort with the intensity of it. He clenched down hard on his lover’s body, causing the angel to gasp and stutter, and with half a thrust more Aziraphale was following Crowley, his own cry joining in the din. 

All throughout the hotel the lights flickered and grew almost painfully bright. Several dozen bulbs exploded, and outside a number of car alarms began to blare. 

Crowley felt like it took him hours to come back to himself, but when he did the sun had barely moved in the sky. 

He blinked several times, trying to clear the spots from his eyes, and felt warm fingers stroking the sharp edge of his jaw. He met Aziraphale’s bright blue eyes with a smile that could have shifted the course of human history. “Fuck,” he said simply, and the angel snorted with laughter. 

“My thoughts exactly, my dearest,” Aziraphale giggled. “That was-”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed. “It certainly was.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too, angel.”

The kiss was soft and slow and languid, and perfect. When they pulled apart again Crowley smirked up at his angel. “But as much as I love your new look, next time I’m getting you out of those clothes.”

Aziraphale chuckled, lips twitching up into a rather cocky smile. “You’ll have to take them from me,” he suggested. 

“I think I can handle that. How much longer do we have the room?”

Aziraphale glanced across the room to the alarm clock on the bedside table. “About twelve hours,” he responded with a grin. 

“Mmm…” Crowley purred. “And not a refractory period to be seen...I expect we could do quite a lot in that amount of time.” He noted the almost overwhelming love and desire in his angel’s eyes and almost shuddered with the magnitude of it. His lip twitched and he lifted a hand, thumb and forefinger pressed together. “But first things first,” he said, and snapped his fingers. 

Aziraphale blinked in surprise as a plate appeared on the bed beside them. On it lay two slices of cake - angel’s and devil’s food respectively - drizzled in a blood-red sauce. 

“You never got to enjoy your dessert, love,” Crowley reminded his besotted angel. 

And at that a rather devilish grin spread across Aziraphale’s face. “Oh, excellent idea, darling...it will taste so much more delicious when I lick it from your body…”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment to let me know what you think! And if you're interested in more of my writing, check out my blog at http://traceytobin.wordpress.com! <3


End file.
